


pieces of existence

by frosmxths



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosmxths/pseuds/frosmxths
Summary: various oneus drabbles from twt.different AUs and settings, please check chapter summaries for relationships/etc.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Lee Keonhee, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Lee Seoho, Lee Seoho/Yeo Hwanwoong, Son Dongju | Xion/Yeo Hwanwoong
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dongju/hwanwoong.  
> dystopian AU.
>
>> “Maybe” Xion’s hands are on the floor, eyes lost somewhere on an artificial sky, small lights twinkling and reflecting like fake starlight. “We could go somewhere else”
>> 
>> “If the world was real?”
>> 
>> “Yeah”
> 
> Even when nothing is real, they find peace in each other-- and that's all they need. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: the feel of fingers brushing together by accident

“Do you think” Xion’s voice is soft against the air, warm breaths floating like vapor and fading into nothing. “The world really exists?”

Hwanwoong hums, hands on his lap, fingers playing and spinning his rings. “What if it doesn’t” Xion lets his head hit the wall, a soft _thump_ against concrete that almost echoes in their silence. “Would that change anything?” The barcode on Xion’s neck is dark against his skin, stands out without a meaning, with a reason he can’t figure out.

“Maybe” Xion’s hands are on the floor, eyes lost somewhere on an artificial sky, small lights twinkling and reflecting like fake starlight. “We could go somewhere else”

“If the world was real?”

“Yeah” Xion leans his head forward, raises a hand to run it through his hair as his eyes close. He smiles, only a little bit, and Hwanwoong wonders if anything really matters when he has Xion _here_ , when he can feel the way his breath laughs and stutters, the way his skin is warm and _real_ and _here_. “If the world was real, then I could take you outside”

Hwanwoong laughs back at that, moves away from the wall, hits Xion’s leg lightly with a smile. “Where would you take me?” Xion shrugs, a pout on his lips as he looks to the side.

“Anywhere”

“Anywhere?”

“To hell and back, something like that” Hwanwoong blinks, watches as Xion stands up, dusts off his pants, reflects streetlights and stars like glass. He’s pretty, almost ethereal, and Hwanwoong _decides_ that the world doesn’t _have_ to be real. As long as Xion is real, then the world doesn’t matter.

“You can take me now” Xion looks down at him, puts his hand forward for Hwanwoong to take. “If you want?” Hwanwoong takes it, lets Xion pull him up and away from the wall, away from the floor that’s covered in years of dust and dirty memories shared together.

“There’s nowhere to go” Xion lets go, and Hwanwoong feels cold. He puts his hand in his jacket’s pocket, wishes he could kiss the warmth he misses, maybe take some for himself, if Xion were to let him. Xion starts walking away then, arms stretching forward as he lets out a hum. “I can’t take you anywhere”

“But I’m with you” Xion turns to look at him, arms hanging at his sides, eyes shining and contrasting with everything in the world, everything that Hwanwoong knows, everything he doesn’t love.

Xion laughs then, tugs at Hwanwoong’s sleeve to get him to walk. “Ravn-hyung has gotten to you too much” Hwanwoong follows, feels the night air against his skin, feels Xion’s warmth through the thin layer of his jacket. “That was so corny” Xion’s looking forward, grip on Hwanwoong’s sleeve loosening and threatening to fade.

Hwanwoong whines, moves his arm in something like a push-and-pull, lets Xion’s hand drop over his- feels the warm brush of skin, of Xion’s hand against his own. “You started-” Hwanwoong’s voice leaves him, his sentence incomplete, Xion laughing as if without a care.

His hand hovers in the air, a quiet second.

“I’m allowed” Singsong, and then his fingers brush the back of Hwanwoong’s hand again, this time on purpose, delicate and kind against cold skin.

“You’re not” Xion’s hand falls now, away, and Hwanwoong takes a step forward to walk by his side. Hwanwoong ruffles his hair, shoves his head forward without a care and yet with all the care in the world. Xion rolls his eyes, reaches up and grabs Hwanwoong’s hand, takes it off his hair.

He gives Hwanwoong a cheeky smile, and Hwanwoong swears their world blinks- fades a second and comes back- and the stars in their make-believe sky reflect off Hwanwoong’s glasses and skin, and everything is warm, everything is still.

_And, then and there, the world is Xion, and Xion is everything and yet nothing at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seoho/geonhak
> 
> College AU.
>
>> His breathing is uneven—it’s erratic and confused. He sounds choked-up, like he’s trying to hide and stop himself from—From feeling anything at all.
> 
> It's their third date-- Seoho's overwhelmed by something like feeling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (blows kiss) to [dahlia](https://twitter.com/suheafoams) cause i was throwing ideas at her after she posted her au idea and ended up really liking this one i sent her so (waves hands) here it is

They pick a seat towards the back of the fast food place—where the noise is quieter and people crowd around less, smell of cleaning products and grease sharp in the air. Geonhak scrunches up his nose, places the tray down on the table carefully before dropping down on the chair. Seoho follows suit, edge of his cup already on his lips as he does so—he sips carefully, makes sure to not spill as he puts the tray down with a quiet _clack._

They’re sitting across from each other, trays barely fitting in the small, rickety-seeming table. Their food’s lukewarm—part-time workers too tired to heat it up properly at this time of the night. Seoho’s only got a drink and a single pastry, and Geonhak looks at him with mild curiosity.

“You’re really not eating more?” Seoho pinches off a piece of his pastry, brings it up in front of his mouth and looks at Geonhak—smiles pretty and happy.

“Nah” He pops it into his mouth—Geonhak watches him with a frown. Seoho swallows, drops his hands on the table—they’re bouncing, anxious. “Not really hungry” Geonhak frowns.

“You’ll get sick” Seoho laughs over another piece of pastry, mouth hidden under one of his hands.

“I’m quite fine, thank you” He splits what’s left of his little muffin in half, picks the less bitten side up and puts it on Geonhak’s tray. “I’ll just take some from you if I want” He smiles, Geonhak snorts, taps at the crumbs now on his side.

“As if I’d let you” Seoho mocks offense, reaches out for a piece of chicken. Geonhak smacks his hand, playful. “Mine” He tries for threatening, but figures that he hasn’t managed, if Seoho’s chime of laughter is anything to go by.

“Give” He reaches out again, but doesn’t touch, simply hovers over the food. “You liked the movie _I_ picked. I get to have some food”

Geonhak gives him an eye roll, picks up the smallest piece he can with a napkin and shoves it forward, elbow resting on the table. “This” Seoho’s eyes sparkle, and he brings his hand back to Geonhak’s, index and thumb touching his skin like a ghost. “Nothing else”

“Fine, fine” Seoho grabs the napkin, leans back on his chair “This much is fine” He bites, fingers of his free hand tapping on the table in uneven, changing rhythms.

There’s a pause, sound of loudspeakers and chatter drowning into a mist—melting together and unintelligible, almost as fading as they are enveloping.

“Stingy” Geonhak frowns, mid-sip, looks up at Seoho with a frown, ready to whine because _no, hyung, this is in fact my food you—_

But he stops, words lost in his mouth when he focuses on Seoho—

He’s looking out the window, elbow on the table and cheek resting on his palm. His blond hair’s messy, sticking in all directions and falling over his eyes—his cheeks are a little red, lips in something that’s almost a pout—

More than anything, though, what takes Geonhak’s breath away is his _eyes—_ the streetlights reflect, make them shine—but so do tears, pooling at the corners and threatening to fall off—glitter against his skin under the moonlight.

Seoho’s crying—Geonhak feels like he might forget how to breathe. He feels himself tense up, frozen in the moment and confused—

Seoho blinks—seems to notice his own tears just now, lifts his head and quickly rubs at his eyes with the end of his sleeve with a noise of confusion. He leans his back on the chair, drops his head to look down—covers his face with shaky hands.

His breathing is uneven—it’s erratic and confused. He sounds choked-up, like he’s trying to hide and stop himself from—From feeling anything at all.

Seoho pushes his own chair back, stands up abruptly, one hand still covering his face and the other on the table. Geonhak feels his muscles move—stands up before he can process it, awkwardly hovers in front of Seoho, reaches out for his arm.

Seoho inhales sharply, stops moving— freezes in time, exhales a shaky breath and sniffles. He lets go of the table brings up his hand to rub at his nose as he lets out a wet laugh, still looking down. “Sorry” Geonhak frowns, grip on Seoho’s arm tighter—he wants to be reassuring, wants him to not cry, to _breathe_ (he wants to _understand_ —even if it’s only a little bit, he wants to understand _Seoho_ ).

Seoho takes in a sharp breath again, tenses under Geonhak’s grip—Geonhak lets go, lets Seoho rub at his eyes over and over—face red and nose runny and eyes hidden from view. The mist of sound turns into a cacophony with quiet sobs—painful in his ears and coiling ugly in his stomach.

“Are you—” Geonhak swallows, stammers and tries again “Do you—” A breath, Seoho hiccups a little, lets out another laugh—quiet and ashamed and _painful_. “Need anything, are you feeling okay?”

Seoho shakes his head, sniffles through a choked laugh—looks up at Geonhak with tearful eyes and a sheepish little smile. “I’m fine, just—” He look down, laughs a little more—another sniffle. Geonhak grabs a napkin, holds it up to Seoho’s face. Seoho lets out a strangled sort of sound, eyes widening a fraction before he smiles in thanks—fingers brushing together when he grabs the napkin and blows at his nose. “Just…overwhelmed, I think”

Seoho breathes in—Geonhak waits, swallows down worry and a thousand words that almost feel like thorns—like ivy in his lungs.

There’s something like silence again—music drowning, stopping—lost in another part of the world. Seoho breathes, chokes and covers his face again—and he looks small, vulnerable even when Geonhak knows he’s not (knows that he’s the stronger one of them—that Seoho doesn’t _break_ , not usually).

Geonhak steps forward, careful—he reaches out, lets his hand land on Seoho’s shoulder, grip firm but not tight—kind.

Seoho doesn’t push him away—seems to hesitate, doubtful of even himself as he leans just a _little_ into Geonhak’s touch and—

Geonhak takes in a breath of his own, pushes Seoho towards him only a little bit—as if afraid he’d run away, would close off and laugh with tears in his eyes and _leave_ —

Seoho doesn’t leave.

His arms drop slightly—enough that Geonhak can catch his eyes, can muster enough courage to bring the hand he has on Seoho’s shoulder to the nape of his neck and _push—_

It’s enough. Enough for Seoho to let himself fall—shaky steps until his hands are gripping the front of Geonhak’s shirt loosely, face hiding on his neck and _burning_.

Geonhak keeps the hand on his hair, leaves the other one awkward at his side—he doesn’t do much, only strokes the back of his head softly, enough for Seoho to grip _just_ a little tighter, breathing a little softer and soft against Geonhak’s skin. He feels awkward, holding Seoho like this, standing in the middle of some fast food restaurant—Seoho’s crying rings in his ears, overwhelming (He doesn’t want to hear it anymore, not like this—not because Seoho just can’t fathom himself _feeling_ anything) and loud—drowns out the constant cacophony and throws the mist into disarray (He doesn’t want to hear—see this again. He doesn’t want Seoho to cry). He focuses on the rhythm of his fingers—on the way Seoho’s hair tickles and scratches where it’s too short on the back.

(He wants Seoho to know—know it’s okay to feel.)

It’s some time—maybe short, maybe long, Geonhak isn’t sure—before Seoho’s palms flatten against his chest and he’s pushing back. Geonhak lets him go (He doesn’t want to, wants to keep holding him close, wants to let him _know—_ that it’s okay, that he’s safe here), hand going to his neck. Seoho smiles up at him—eyes and nose red, scratched until they’re sore (he’s still beautiful, Geonhak wants him to know that, too). Seoho sniffles, frowns and looks at some point lost in front of Geonhak—then sticks his tongue out, mock disgust before he simply drops back down on his chair.

Geonhak finds himself laughing, and Seoho lets out a thinly disguised groan of fake annoyance before he smiles again—picks up his cup to drink sickeningly sweet sugar. Geonhak follows, sits back down as well, watches as Seoho brings himself together the rest of the way—little pieces settling back with every little movement, until he’s letting out a sigh and laughing softly.

“Sorry” Geonhak frowns.

“What for” Seoho shrugs, looks away—plays with his cup a little in mid-air. His eyes are out the window again, streetlights pretty where they reflect off his eyes again. His smile is small—barely there and peaceful.

“Crying, I guess”

“You don’t need to apologize for that” Seoho drops the cup back on the tray, shrugs.

“Not a very good date thing to do” Geonhak huffs out a breath, reaches a cross the table to ruffle the top of Seoho’s hair—Seoho lets out a weird noise, a little choked and confused—laughs and asks a quiet _what the hell_ between breaths of air he seems to have remembered how to take.

“I walked into a tree last time” Geonhak feels the back of his neck burn “You’re fine”

Seoho snorts—then breaks into a laugh that’s just as pretty as his eyes—voice airy and so _happy_ (Geonhak thinks he could cry, too—but not now), Geonhak throws him a mock glare, leans back and takes his hand away and lets it drop on the table.

“I guess you did” Seoho smiles—shit-eating grin familiar and easy (and so _lovely_ —Geonhak almost feels lovesick, almost feels like he’s fallen further that he thought he ever could).

Seoho’s hand lands on top of his over the table, fingers kind over the back of it—intertwining but not quite. Geonhak lets him—doesn’t tease, instead throws him a little smile that Seoho replies to with a little piece of the forgotten muffin to his own lips—then to Geonhak’s—eyes smiling all the while.

(He thinks, absently, that he might just be in love.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dongju/hwanwoong
> 
> royalty AU
>
>> “Prince—” Hwanwoong’s voice tries for scolding, fond edge to it evident even under a layer of annoyance. Dongju gives him a smile, hood pulled up over his head and eyes shiny with as much mischief as that little spark of adoration he always seemed to get around Hwanwoong. “You have lessons right now, no?” 
> 
> Dongju likes to escape from his lessons— likes to go bother the cute gardener that's taken his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> req for dae on twt <3

“Prince—” Hwanwoong’s voice tries for scolding, fond edge to it evident even under a layer of annoyance. Dongju gives him a smile, hood pulled up over his head and eyes shiny with as much mischief as that little spark of adoration he always seemed to get around Hwanwoong. “You have lessons right now, no?”

“No” Dongju’s voice is light as he steps closer to Hwanwoong, stops behind him with his hands in his coat pockets and curious eyes. “I’m free”

Hwanwoong sighs, eyes the gardening scissors and natural pesticide he’s left on the floor he’s kneeling on, then looks back at Dongju, unamused. “Don’t lie”

“I’m not” Dongju sounds whiny, pouts. “I’m here, so I’m free”

“That’s not how—” Dongju gets his hands out, easily falls to a crouch and puts a hand to Hwanwoong’s lips.

“It’s how I say it works, so that’s how it works” Hwanwoong gives him a frown—something that really looks more like a _pout—_ Dongju smiles again, brings his hand back and lets himself fall to sit properly on the floor.

“I’m gonna get in trouble later” Hwanwoong sounds defeated as he picks up scissors, brings a gloved hand up to carefully hold a flower from the bed they’re sitting in front of—Dongju has no idea what he’s doing, what the flower even is—all he knows is that Hwanwoong’s pretty, as pretty as the flower—that Hwanwoong’s movements and care are also pretty—

“You won’t” Dongju’s tone is a little more serious. Hwanwoong side-glances at him, lets go of the flowers and brings his hand to rest it on his knee with a hum of disbelief. Dongju laughs, hands against the floor—dirt and dust of a few days dirtying his clothes and skin (if anything, _he’s_ the one who’s gonna get in trouble, get yelled at for dirtying his clothes and missing his lessons again). “I’ll make sure you won’t” Almost a whisper, careful.

Hwanwoong sighs again, turns so he can face Dongju properly, takes off his gloves. “That’s also no good, though”

Dongju rolls his eyes—meets Hwanwoong’s hand halfway, fingers intertwining together easily. “I think it’s good”

“You’re so spoiled” Hwanwoong shakes his head, whisper leaving his lips all too fond. He brings Dongju’s hand closer, places a gentle kiss to the back of it—Dongju laughs, happy, pulls his hand back to move forward, kisses Hwanwoong’s cheek.

“Maybe so”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seoho/youngjo
> 
> squirrel hybrid! seoho and daily life cuddles
>
>> But—Youngjo also knows not to pry, knows to let Seoho’s thoughts simmer until he feels like talking—always settles for spoiling him, hands on his hair and ears, sometimes brushing his tail, too—
> 
> Seoho has a lot in his mind— cuddles close to Youngjo until everything is far _far_ away.... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> req for kris!!

“Are you feeling okay?” Youngjo’s voice is quiet, whispered against Seoho’s hair—One of Seoho’s ears twitches against him, tail warm where it’s pressed between the two of them, tickling Youngjo’s arm. Seoho’s sitting on his lap, face half-buried in Youngjo’s neck and shirt bunched up slightly—one of Youngjo’s hands warm on the skin of his navel, the other rubbing circles carefully on the back of his head, on messy hair—little scratches on the base of his ears.

“Sleepy” Seoho’s voice is a mumble— warm against Youngjo’s neck. One of his hands goes to Youngjo’s as it moves up his stomach—threads their fingers together and holds him closer. Youngjo laughs, moves so he can place a kiss to the top of Seoho’s head, pulls back and keeps patting his head—absent-mindedly untangles his hair with careful fingers.

“Just that?” Seoho hums—nods and hides his face as best as he can. Youngjo sighs—hums a little worried— There’s more than just that, Youngjo knows, has learnt enough about the little changes in Seoho’s body language— the way he curls into Youngjo’s side when he’s more than a little worried, how he accepts every little kiss and touch when he’s sad, how he gets touchy and cuddles close _close_ and lets his ears twitch against Youngjo’s skin when there’s too much on his mind, tail twitching and almost as if trying to hold _on_ —

But—Youngjo also knows not to pry, knows to let Seoho’s thoughts simmer until he feels like talking—always settles for spoiling him, hands on his hair and ears, sometimes brushing his tail, too—

Seoho moves their held hands away—gives Youngjo’s a little squeeze before letting go. He sits up a little straighter, eyes half-closed and sleepy—Youngjo lets go, too, lets him settle more comfortably, back now against Youngjo’s chest, tail awkwardly stuck between them and soft—

Youngjo kind of wanted to brush it a little today, but he guesses Seoho’s not really up to it—so he settles for bringing Seoho closer, places kisses against his cheeks and the crown of his head—to his cheek and the corner of his lips—

Seoho sighs—happy and comfortable, turns around a little bit, angle awkward but enough to let Youngjo catch his lips in a kiss—on light pecks and slow warmth—until Seoho’s whining sleepy and leaning away, Youngjo’s fingers in his hair and ears. His other hand’s around Seoho’s middle—safe and comfortable, Seoho’s hand over his again—grip slowly slowly _slowly_ losing strength—

Until Seoho falls asleep, and the hum of whatever they were watching is far _far_ away—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keonhee/youngjo
> 
> fantasy AU.
>
>> “He’s not going to hurt you, Keonhee” 
>> 
>> “How do you know that?” Keonhee’s probably trying to sound a little mad, maybe even intimidating—but he only really manages to sound half-choked up and shaky, eyes darting from the dragon to Youngjo in quick intervals and lips bitten red.
> 
> Youngjo tries to convince Keonhee to just trust Youngjo's beloved pet dragon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> req for ei <33

“Keonhee—” Keonhee lets out a noise from behind the column he’s using as a shield—they’re at the patio of the castle, columns that hold the little balcony overhead covered in delicate white patterns and, frankly, a little thin to hide Keonhee (even if he’s not one to take up much space, despite being ridiculously tall)—Youngjo sighs, a playful smile on his lips as he pats the head of his pet.

Said pet being a _dragon_ —and also the reason Keonhee is currently hiding and looking like he’s about to cry. Youngjo gives the purple scales a pat, laughs a little when the dragon nuzzles against his hand and makes a low almost _purr_ , making Keonhee jump and hold onto the column for dear life—screams out a choked dramatic noise that makes Youngjo snort as he walks towards him with easy steps.

“He’s not going to hurt you, Keonhee” Youngjo’s voice is levelled— kind and as careful as his steps. Keonhee huffs from behind the column, peeks out with teary red eyes and a pout.

“How do you know that?” Keonhee’s probably trying to sound a little mad, maybe even intimidating—but he only really manages to sound half-choked up and shaky, eyes darting from the dragon to Youngjo in quick intervals and lips bitten red.

Youngjo sighs, stops walking right in front of the column, gives Keonhee a smile that he hopes is reassuring. “Because I raised him?” He laughs a little at the end—last word leaving out in a breath that’s warm against his hand. Keonhee whines, petulant as he steps back and away from the column to face Youngjo a little better with teary eyes.

“And?” Youngjo rolls his eyes, playful, holds his hand out—an invitation. Keonhee looks at him, something like mortification flashing across his eyes as he glances at the dragon sitting peacefully around the flowers, roses hanging around its neck in a delicate necklace with a name in runes Keonhee can’t read and Youngjo’s own in delicate handwriting.

The dragon does something that’s almost a yawn, and Keonhee jumps— looks back at Youngjo with wide eyes and bites his bottom lip again, breaks the skin and draws a little blood that he quickly wipes with the back of his hand.

Youngjo sighs, takes another step forward, brings his hand up to hold Keonhee’s in front of his mouth— brings the other one up as well to hold the side of Keonhee’s face.

He lowers their held hands, doesn’t let go—makes sure to hold on, intertwines their fingers, Youngjo’s gloved hand feeling warm against Keonhee’s. Keonhee lets him, easily slides their hands together and leans against Youngjo’s other hand, teary eyed as he still is.

Keonhee pouts, Youngjo smiles, runs his thumb against Keonhee’s cheek and leans a little closer— until he’s breathing warm against Keonhee’s skin, Keonhee a little less tense as he seems to melt into Youngjo, blinks away stray tears.

“Trust me?” He holds onto Keonhee’s hand tighter, wipes away at the corner of his eye with care.

Keonhee sighs—shaky and almost like he’s about to cry still—opens his eyes again. “It’s scary” Whiny, pouting still. Youngjo sighs again, moves a little forward—brushes their lips together for a second, warm and loving.

“I’m here, though?” Another kiss, Keonhee lets his eyes fall closed again. “Trust me” A whisper, Youngjo’s hand on Keonhee’s face falls slightly—settles carefully on his neck.

A second—and then Keonhee’s eyes flutter open with something like resignation and fear gripping at the edges.

“Okay” He sighs, gives a little shrug—Youngjo moves away, smiles at him again, happy. Keonhee tries to smile back—comes out a little crooked and wobbly, pulls a laugh out of Youngjo.

Keonhee whines, walks behind Youngjo easily, lets himself be pulled forward despite the fear—despite his hands shaking a little too much even with Youngjo’s warmth with him.

They stop halfway there—Youngjo turns around easily, lightly. He lets go of Keonhee’s hand, leaves Keonhee only a second to be confused before he takes Keonhee’s face in his hands and kisses him again—a little less careful, maybe, but just as soft.

Keonhee kisses back, lets his hands come up and rest over Youngjo’s—kisses back as softly, feels a little of himself melt into nothing.

When they pull away, Keonhee’s smile is a little wider—less nervous even as he sniffles a little. Youngjo wipes at his eyes, leaves light kisses over his cheek and nose.

“Crybaby” light-hearted—Keonhee huffs, catches Youngjo’s lips for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hwanwoong/seoho  
> urban fantasy AU
>
>> “He sure is dense, though, huh” Hwanwoong sighs, brings his cup of lukewarm tea closer to himself and takes a miserable sip. 
>> 
>> “I’m gonna die pining after a hot demon” Dongju snorts, picks up a little fork to stab at the cake they have in the middle of the table—he takes a bite, fangs clacking against the fork and spit making it sizzle as it gets in his mouth. 
> 
> Or: in which Hwanwoong's miserably pining after a hot demon barista, and Dongju is just _tired_ of watching it unfold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the soggy waffle (dahlia)

“It’s a lost cause” Hwanwoong lets his head fall forward and over his arms on top of the table, voice whiny and overly dramatic— ears on top of his head twitching before they flatten over fluffy hair. Dongju sighs from his seat in front of him, reaches out a hand to run it through Hwanwoong's hair, pets at the base of his ears—manages to bring a quiet purr out of Hwanwoong, even while he’s still sulking.

“Is it now?” Dongju moves his hand away at the same time Hwanwoong lifts his head up, pouting.

“Yes” Hwanwoong stretches his arms up, then lets his palms fall flat on the table a little loudly—ears standing up as the sound echoes off the wooden walls of the half-empty little coffee shop, tail fluffing up as it stops its swishing from side to side and stills.

“Don’t be loud” Dongju smacks at his hand—Hwanwoong lets out a little laugh, fangs peeking out past his lips as he scratches behind one of his ears, sheepish, mouths out a little _sorry_. Dongju shrugs, then looks over at the counter—at the source of Hwanwoong’s gay lamenting.

There, glancing over at them with what Dongju can only describe as a _sly_ grin, is a fluffy orange-haired demon—all sharp eyes and teeth as he turns to greet a customer that’s sending their table a dirty look.

The demon moves not too gracefully—but pretty enough even so, eye smile soothing and cheerful as he jots down orders and talks in that soft voice that makes Hwanwoong bury his face in his hands and has his ears flattening towards the back cutely.

Which—of course—he is doing right now, stupid whipped smile hidden behind his hands as his tail goes back to swishing around—curls around the chair a second and lets go when Hwanwoong looks up at Dongju.

Dongju looks away from the demon—Seoho, as they had learnt maybe a week after they started coming by the little coffee shop and befriended the guy, finally payed attention to his damn name tag— focuses back on Hwanwoong.

“He sure is dense, though, huh” Hwanwoong sighs, brings his cup of lukewarm tea closer to himself and takes a miserable sip.

“I’m gonna die pining after a hot demon” Dongju snorts, picks up a little fork to stab at the cake they have in the middle of the table—he takes a bite, fangs clacking against the fork and spit making it sizzle as it gets in his mouth.

Hwanwoong fake gags, pulls the fork back and cleans it with a half-used napkin and a frown.

“Use your own fork, Dongju” Dongju sticks his tongue out, takes the fork back when Hwanwoong drops it on the table—Hwanwoong makes a noise of annoyance, but makes no effort to take it back.

“I dropped it” Dongju points at his own fork with Hwanwoong’s, abandoned at the edge of the table after an unfortunate accident. Hwanwoong snorts, sips at his tea.

“Use your demon saliva to kill germs?” Dongju pouts.

“No” Hwanwoong sighs, reaches for Dongju’s fork and wipes at it with the same dirty napkin. Dongju smiles—a grin, scheming, and Hwanwoong squints at him as he leaves both the utensil and napkin on the table.

“What?” Dongju’s grin widens—he gets a little bit of cake again, sizzling of the fork against his lips and tongue a little too loud and most definitely on purpose. Hwanwoong’s squint turns into a glare. “Dongj—”

“I was just thinking” He bites at the fork—sharp fangs clinking against the material. “You could go ask your dear demon for another fork, maybe”

Hwanwoong’s ears stand up—fluffy and cute—tail curling into almost an _s_ shape behind him. “Fucker?”

Dongju laughs, drops the fork from his mouth on the table and motions for Hwanwoong to move forward. Hwanwoong huffs, moves forward even so—lets Dongju’s hands tidy up his hair, push his bangs and comb through to get it back into some semblance of order. He fluffs at the top of Hwanwoong’s head—fluffs at his ears and cleans white and purple fur of any dust—tidies it all up one last time before leaning back with a satisfied noise and smile.

“Go” Dongju makes a dismissing motion with his hand, and Hwanwoong rolls his eyes, ears twitching back slightly when Seoho’s voice floats through the air again— cheerful as he greets yet another customer and scribbles orders in a little piece of paper before getting to type it up on the little screen. “Shoot your shot again, lover boy”

Hwanwoong bares his absolutely non-threatening fangs at him with what might be a growl—Dongju only sticks his tongue out again, flicks at his forehead and points at Seoho with the non-fallen fork.

“I hate you” A half-angry whisper as Hwanwoong’s tail fluffs up and relaxes, wraps around one of his legs as he stands up—he shoves his hands in his pockets, sighs out in exasperation and walks towards the counter for what might be the tenth time that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seoho/geonhak  
> college AU.
>
>> “Why are you” Geonhak runs a hand through his hair, pushes his bangs back with something like annoyance. “At my door at 7am?”
> 
> It's almost their first anniversary— Seoho shows up at Geonhak's door, at 7am, with an early gift. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a gift for the soggy waffle (dahlia)

“So,” Seoho stands outside the door to Geonhak’s apartment with a blinding smile, hair messy and clothes even worse— picture-perfect image of having just gotten up out of bed, and yet managing to look as bright as the sun overhead, bangs falling in his eyes and all.

He looks cute—cute with his _way_ too big sweater with sleeves that cover his hands, cute with pants he’s rolled up at the bottom, so they don’t get dirty, and cute with the _definitely_ inconspicuous paper bag he’s got hanging from around his elbow—

Adorable, really, but Geonhak’s not about to say that out loud.

“Why are you” Geonhak runs a hand through his hair, pushes his bangs back with something like annoyance. “At my door at 7am?”

Seoho keeps smiling, pushes the bag back when the movement of his arm makes it even _more_ visible—lets out a little laugh and a half-hearted apology.

“Got something” He looks at some point behind Geonhak, flicks his eyes to the side and then back to somewhere in Geonhak’s forehead—fake eye-contact that Geonhak catches with a squint.

“Huh?” Seoho laughs again, messes the back of his hair and pushes his bangs away.

“Something—gift? Dongju said to be nice” Seoho does an exaggerated shrug, lets the bag slide down until it’s held in his hand. “Since it’s our anniversary, or whatever” a pout, a frown—eyes on the floor as he seems to mull over words.

Geonhak blinks, pats at his pocket to look for his phone—figures he left it in his room together with the knowledge of whatever date it was—

His lips part—an _oh_ of surprise before he scratches at the back of his neck—stretches his neck to the side and to the other—

“I don’t—” He lowers his hand—body a little tense as he tries to figure out _words._ “Have—is it? I didn’t remember—”

And Seoho laughs—something sharp and embarrassed— “Well, not yet, but—” he pushes his glasses up, shrugs. “Thought on the day I’d like, get too embarrassed, so, uh—” He lifts the bag up, colourful striped pattern on it matching Seoho’s sweater in brightness. “Early gift?”

“Oh” Geonhak feels a little awkward—but he figures Seoho does, too, so he does his best to push it aside—does his best to ignore the way the tips of his ears seem to be burning—lifts a hand up to cover even if Seoho already _knows_ —knows when Geonhak gets embarrassed and how it shows, has kissed and teased him for it time and time again over the last year—“Uh, thank—thank you”

He sounds _dumb,_ but Seoho only laughs—pretty and bright—places the bag on Geonhak’s hands with pretty pretty eyes that shine behind his glasses.

“You don’t really use this kind of thing, but” Geonhak grabs the bag properly, and Seoho moves his hand away, shoves it in the pocket of his sweatpants with a smile that’s almost _anxious_. “Reminded me of you?” Seoho laughs, awkward, shrugs as he looks at some point on the wall besides them. “So I just—ended up buying it, I guess”

“Should I—” Geonhak tilts his head a little bit, one side then the other—rolls his shoulders back. “open it—?”

“No—” Seoho cuts him off—brings his eyes back to look up at Geonhak a little _too_ embarrassed— “Well, yes, but—”

Geonhak only looks at him, runs his fingers over the tape that keeps the bag closed—

And then he rips it open with as much care as he can manage, feels himself smile at the way Seoho seems to almost _cringe_ —hands in his pocket and leg bouncing in place.

Inside the bag there’s only one thing—a small and orange wolf plushie with a keychain ring attached—

Geonhak blinks, picks it up and places the bag on the floor next to him—

The little wolf is _soft—_ plushie fur matching in colour to Seoho’s hair when they had started dating, with patches of darker orange here and there—its eyes are little black beads, and its in a sitting position, with its little plushie wolf head cocked a little to the side.

It’s—

It’s adorable—

“I know, like—you don’t really have cute stuff or anything” Seoho laughs, brings back Geonhak’s attention— “but—”

“I really like it” and Geonhak’s ears _burn—_ burn and he kind of wants to hide under his blankets and not come out, but—but the way Seoho’s eyes brighten up _oh_ so beautifully—the way his posture relaxes and he almost _bounces_ in place—the way his smile gets a little wider and so much _happier—_

Everything _Seoho_ — 

Everything Seoho makes the burn of embarrassment worth it—

“It’s cute” Geonhak’s voice is a mumble—Seoho laughs, soft and caring, places a hand over where Geonhak’s holding the plushie. “Colour reminds me of—reminds me of you” a whisper, something that barely leaves his lips—

But, like always, Seoho catches it anyway—catches words and catches Geonhak’s lips like countless times before—catches Geonhak’s hands and hidden meanings—

Catches Geonhak and turns him into his pace—kisses soft and easy with a smile against Geonhak’s lips—

“You’re cute, you know” Seoho laughs as he speaks, hands gentle over Geonhak’s—everything warm despite the cold morning air.

Geonhak huffs, eyes avoidant and hands sweating as he pulls Seoho back in with a lost _lost_ complaint and _shut the fuck up, hyung._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


End file.
